Old Timers and Turnabouts
by Mister Mystery
Summary: A series of drabbles, flash fiction, and short stories set twenty years after AJ:AA. Various pairings. Rated K to T.
1. Love is a Funny Thing

I seemed to spend more and more time sitting at my desk as I got older. It was rather annoying, watching everyone else run about the firm while I get stuck doing paperwork. Always my least favorite part of the job. At least my office had gotten larger over the years. It was almost as big as my old apartment these days.

I reach for my pen and send it rolling off my desk. I swear silently. Now I have to get up and get it. God damn arthritis. It seems to get worse every year. Embarrassing at my age. The doctor even insists I use a cane to get around. A cane, for God's sake. Though I will admit, it does add a touch of class.

"I'll get it," she says before I can get out of my chair. She walks over, almost sashaying, though maybe that's just my imagination. The deep purple robes she wears flow and dance at her ankles. Her dark hair is still silky, but it needs to be dyed these days. Her face is a little wrinkled, but that's mostly from all the smiling she does. Her figure is a little fuller, but still an hourglass. But it's her eyes that are truly beautiful. I can see everything I love about her in them, her wisdom, intelligence, compassion, sense of humor. _Especially_ her sense of humor.

Forty six years old and Maya still managed to look good.

She bends over to pick up the pen, presenting me with a rather enthralling view. At first I wonder if she's doing it on purpose, maybe flaunting the fact that she can actually bend over without throwing out her back, unlike a certain ace attorney. But she stands up straight and hands it to me and I don't see anything but kindness on her face. I decide to take advantage of it.

I thank her kindly, and she turns to leave. I throw the pen off to the side of my desk and swear not so quietly. She hears me and turns around. I put on a despondant expression. "Lousy arthritis."

"It's okay," she says, attempting to reassure me. She walks over and picks it up, once again presenting me with a highly entertaining view. She freezes on the way up, then straightens out and hands me the pen with a little smirk. She's found me out, I can tell. But that's no reason to stop now.

She turns to leave once again, and I throw the pen even further. Slowly, she turns and smirks at me, eyebrow raised. I rest my bearded chin in my hand, elbow on my desk, and grin cheekily at her. "Damn thing keeps getting away from me."

She sashays over to my desk, purposefully this time, and leans forward, resting her elbows on the hard wood and lowering herself to my eye level. The pen lays forgotten on the floor.

"You know this is sexual harrassment," she says with that grin and those half lidded eyes that drive me crazy. "I could sue."

I smile at her, leaning a little closer. "I think there's an exception to that law if the accused is your husband."

Her expression doesn't change. "Damn. I knew I shouldn't have married a lawyer."

"Doctor would have been a better choice," I say with a chuckle. "They make more anyways."

"Who says I cared about money?" She retorts.

"Your stomach. It's a veritable cash vacuum."

"One of these days I'm gonna kick that cane out from under you." She says with a laugh.

"Good thing you'll be there to catch me." I smile genuinely at her. Her eyes are so beautiful.

I hear the Chords of Steel clearing their throat and look up. Apollo's at the door of my office, brown antennae and all, case file in hand. "Am I interrupting anything?" He says in his gruff baritone, brow furrowed.

"Yes," I say flatly. "Come back in fifteen minutes."

"Fifteen minutes?" Maya looks at me with her eyebrows raised. "That's being generous."

I raise a finger at her and feel a slight pain in my knuckle. God damn arthritis. "We'll continue this conversation later."

"I suppose we will," she says with a smirk, raising herself from my desk.

I wave Apollo over. "What fine mess have you caused this time, Justice?"

He walks over and sets the case file on my desk. He says something, but I don't hear it. I'm too busy watching Maya sashay out of my office, casting a furtive glance back before disappearing around the corner.

We would continue that conversation, most certainly.


	2. Love is an Emotional Thing

_Author's Note: Takes place twenty four years after AJ:AA_

I never really enjoy filling out paperwork, but I like having filled out paperwork. Looking at a large stack of completed documents makes me simultaneously proud and relieved. The feeling is intensified when it's the end of the day, and even moreso when it's a Friday. So when I've just completed a stack of paperwork a foot high, and it's the end of the day on a Friday, I'm a pretty chipper person.

I grab my wooden cane with the bird shaped handle and stand myself up. I feel quite stiff. I don't spend nearly as much time away from my office as I'd like these days. I only appear in court once a week, if that. The rest of my time is spent either talking to clients in my office, talking to employees in my office, or filling out paperwork in my office. I rarely even get to investigate crime scenes anymore. That's just not _fair._

But it doesn't bother me, because I just finished a bunch of paperwork and have the rest of the weekend off.

I exit my office through the large wooden double doors and turn to my left. Maya is at her desk, facing away from me. Apparently she finished her work some time ago and set upon folding a paper airplane. Taking one last second to adjust the flaps, she throws it, and it travels all of one foot through the air before immediately nosediving into the waste basket next to her desk. She just stares at the chrome trash bin for a second before crossing her arms and pouting, giving it a solid kick with her foot.

I laugh and she spins in her chair, first surprised, then pouty again. "How long have you been there?" She asks.

"Long enough to see your test flight," I answer with a chuckle. "Not the result you were hoping for, I'm guessing."

"Brilliant deduction, Holmes," she says with a snort. But I see the smile beginning to form on her lips. I know I have succeeded in cheering her up.

I bring my cane up, shouldering it like a baseball bat. "Work's done for the day," I say with a grin. "Let's get the hell out of here."

She nods and stands, her failed attempt at paper aviation already forgotten. We say goodbye to about two dozen employees on our way out. I still don't know how the firm managed to get so large. It seems like only yesterday it was just me and Justice and Trucy and Maya, working out of an office the size of a hamster cage. Now we practically have our own building. I sort of preferred the old days. Things were simpler then. Well, okay, that's a lie, but they were at least more fun.

I unlock the car with the remote attached to my keyring. It was about three years ago now that the doctor told me I couldn't ride the bicycle anymore - arthritis was getting too bad - so I had to get the car. A four door sedan with a classy interior and excellent gas mileage. Blue, of course.

At first I rarely drove the thing, only using it to get to work and back, preferring to walk everywhere else. But gradually, my joints got worse and worse, until it got to the point where running or bicycling for even a mile made me seize up in pain. So these days I drive pretty much everywhere. The very thought irritates me. Or it would, had I not just finished a huge stack of paperwork on a Friday.

I quickened my pace to try and get to the passenger side first, to open the door for Maya, but she wouldn't have any of it. She saw me speeding up and sprinted past, and me and my stupid cane couldn't keep up. She got to my door first and opened it, sticking her tongue out at me. I raised my cane in the air and waved it at her, looking the very picture of a crotchety old man, shouting, "Damn kid! Get away from my car!" She laughed, and I smiled. I never stopped loving that sound.

In the time it took me to climb into the driver's seat and stow my cane, she walked around to the passenger side, got into the car, and buckled her seatbelt. It bothered me that I might be getting slow in my old age, though really I was _always_ slow compared to her.

My distaste must have been evident on my face, because she tried to reassure me. "You don't have to do that you know. Open my door, I mean."

"I know," I said with a sigh, buckling my seatbelt. "Doesn't mean I don't still want to though."

She took my hand in hers and squeezed, smiling at me. "The act isn't important. It's the wanting to do it that's important."

I stared into her eyes for a second before I squeezed back. She always knew exactly what to say to make me feel better.

"Burgers?" I ask with a grin. "My treat, of course."

Her smile disappears and she gives me a strange look. "Do you remember what today is?"

I blink, suddenly on the defensive. My mind starts racing and I'm hoping desperately that I haven't forgotten something important, like her birthday or our anniversary. "...Friday?"

She doesn't look mad, but she doesn't look happy either. "February sixth."

The realization hits me like a ton of bricks. Before I can beat myself up about forgetting about it, she speaks.

"It's okay," she says, "but we had better get going if we want to be there before dark."

Silently, I nod and start the car, trying to remember the best route to the graveyard.

* * *

Stairs. My only weakness.

I pull out a small bottle of painkillers, popping one into my mouth and swallowing it dry. I wasn't going to let her go alone. I had to pay my respects as well.

Her grave was up on a hill, near a big oak tree. I climb the wooden stairs leading to the top with some difficulty. She doesn't outpace me, doesn't walk ahead. She walks next to me, holding my arm. I'm not sure if it's because she's trying to support me or if she just needs comfort, so I don't object.

We reach the top and she stands in front of the gravestone. Slowly, Maya kneels in front of it, closes her eyes and puts her hands together, mumbling a prayer to the dead she learned as a child.

I always feel more than a little awkward when we visit. I want to mourn, but I don't know how. I barely knew the woman, so I don't feel as though I earned the privilege of reciting a prayer for her. I don't want to kiss the gravestone, that's far too personal, and it's too wide to hug. Patting it seems almost deragatory. So when we come here once a year, I find myself standing behind Maya, hands on my cane and head bowed respectfully. I feel rather out of place, but then, she wasn't _my_ mother.

Maya finishes the prayer and stands, bending briefly to kiss the top of the gravestone. She lingers a moment longer, staring at the ground before turning back around and beginning the descent down the stairs. I feel like I should say something, so I mumble a "thank you" to the tombstone before following her.

The walk back to the car seems far shorter than the walk to the grave. Maybe it's because I'm preoccupied by thoughts of Misty Fey, or maybe it's just gravity helping my aching joints along.

We get into the car and Maya just stares at the glove compartment in front of her, buckling her seatbelt as an afterthought.

"Burgers?" I ask as respectfully as I can, trying to cheer her up without seeming like an insensitive ass.

For a moment I don't think she heard me, but then she turns her head towards me and smiles weakly. "No, that's okay. Let's just head home."

"You sure?"

She takes a deep breath. "Yeah."

I don't say anything more. I just start the car and begin the drive home.

* * *

We spent the rest of the night at home and made sandwiches for dinner. Maya ate hers slowly, her gaze distant. I attempted to strike up a conversation, but she wouldn't have it. We end up sitting on the couch together, my feet propped up on the coffee table, watching television. I'm channel surfing when I see something interesting.

"Hey, feature-length Steel Samurai documentary," I say brightly, turning to look at her.

She's sitting next to me, hands in her lap and staring at the television. But her eyes are glazed over, and she has an odd look on her face.

"Huh? What?" She says, blinking and turning towards me. "Oh, right. Yeah, that sounds good." She smiles wearily and turns back towards the TV. I raise the remote and turn it off, and she looks at me questioningly.

"Tell me what's bothering you," I say sternly.

Her face falls and her eyes drift downward. "It's nothing," she says quietly, "it's stupid."

"No it's not," I reply, removing my feet from the coffee table and leaning down to try and catch her gaze. "Just tell me."

She takes a deep, shuddering breath. "It's just..." she looks up at me, then away. "I just realized today that I outlived my mother."

I blink. "She's...been dead since you were nineteen."

"That's not what I meant. I mean...I saw the date of her birth and the date of her death on the gravestone and...she was forty nine when she died. I'm fifty now." She wipes away the beginnings of tears forming in her eyes. "It's stupid, I don't know why it's bothering me so much."

I say nothing. I just embrace her, hugging her as tight as I can. I hear her sniffle, feel her tears hit my shirt, see her back jump a little when she breaths in. I haven't seen her so troubled in years. Maya's been through so much in her life and she's grinned and beared it all. Sometimes I wonder if she bottles herself up around me, pretending to be happy when in reality she's hurting more deeply than I know. But I don't think she'd do that. She knows I'm here for her.

I decide to remind her in case she forgot. I pull away from the hug and look at her resolutely, distantly aware of the pain in my knuckle as I wipe a tear off her cheek.

"Maya," I say, "your feelings are _not_ stupid, and any time you want to share them, I'm here."

She takes a breath as she raises a hand to cover mine. She smiles, genuinely this time. "Thank you, Nick," she says sadly. "I'll probably be sharing a lot of them over the next few days."

"It's okay," I say for lack of anything better, "If there's anything I can do to help, promise you'll tell me, okay?"

"I promise," she replies, smile growing wider. "You can start by putting on that Steel Samurai documentary."

For a long moment I just stare into her eyes. When we first met, I rarely understood Maya. I wasn't used to her whimsical personality or flights of fancy. I couldn't follow the strange trains of thought she had, powered by a logic entirely alien to me. Even years afterward, she often moved too fast for me, switching gears with an almost frightening pace. As I got older and (I'd like to think) wiser, I started to get used to her, but even then, there were times when she managed to surprise me with a comment out of left field. These days I'm rarely surprised by her, though I'm still not sure if that's because I understand her or if it's because I'm just so familiar with her.

Regardless, there are still times when she still amazes me in many different ways, whether she knows it or not.

We never get to bed. We end up falling asleep in each other's arms, feet propped on the coffee table, listening to Will Powers explain how the Method applies to robotic samurai.


	3. Love is a Supportive Thing

"I just don't understand the need for it. Honestly, what's the point?"

"If the doctor says you need a cane, then you need a cane," she says, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "I don't see what the big deal is."

"The big deal is I'm not an old man!" I retort. "My dad never used a cane and he lived to be eighty!"

"Your dad didn't have crazy amounts of arthritis in his legs." Her expression changed, and she peered at me curiously. "Is that what this is all about? Image?"

"No no no," I say quickly, waving my hand dismissively. "It's just that-"

"No, that's it!" She says, pointing her finger accusingly. "You just don't want to look like an old man!"

"That is _not_ true." I reply haughtily. "The fact of the matter is, I am _not_ an old man, so even if I _did_ have a cane, I wouldn't look like one."

"Oh really? So if I did this, it wouldn't bother you?" She scoots to the edge of the bed, droops her eyelids, and shuffles around the bedroom mockingly. "'Oh, look at me, I'm Phoenix Wright, aged attorney. Where's my spectacles and arthritis medication?'"

I fling my pillow as hard as I can and it makes a satisfying _whumpf_ as it hits her in the face. Her laughter is muffled by the cotton and down. "That was _not_ funny."

"Oh come on, Nick," she says with a chuckle, climbing back into bed. "It's just a stick you use to help you walk. Personally, I think it'd make you look more dignified."

I tear my gaze away from the sheets and look at her. "Really?"

"Yeah, all regal and stuff." She wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me. Her tone becomes a bit more somber as she looks into my eyes. "Besides, I don't like seeing you in pain when we go for walks together."

Well, that was it. I had to get a cane now.

* * *

Going cane shopping is like going porn shopping. No matter which one you pick, you always feel embarassed and a little ashamed, but there are _always_ worse choices.

About half of the canes in the shop seemed to be for real, medical use, and the other half seemed to be decorative or cosmetic. It was rather strange, seeing extending canes and walkers alongside black staffs and concealed swords.

"How about this one?" Maya says cheerily, holding up a metal cane with a foam grip and _four_ supports at the bottom. I do my best approximation of Edgeworth's scowl and she laughs a little. "Alright alright, jeez. Tou-_chy_."

I pick up a large obsidian staff with a head shaped like a dragon with a crystal ball in it's mouth and show it to Maya. She raises her eyebrows and gives me a strange look. "You're kidding, right?"

"Yeah, I am." I grin as I put it back and hear Maya mumbling something about how it's always hard to tell with me.

"Oooh, look at this one!" Maya says excitedly as she grabs a cane from a rack. It was a standard hooked head, only the entire thing was black and the bottom had flames rising from it. I consider it for a moment before shaking my head. "Too British."

After about an hour of browsing, we give up. I refuse to buy a plain old wooden cane despite Maya's protests. "If I'm going to be stuck with one of these things," I say determinedly, "it's going to be something unique."

* * *

Days pass, and I spend much of my free time at my computer, searching the Internet for the perfect cane. I still wasn't fond of getting one, but it was a personal quest at this point, a challenge from the universe. 'You will never find a good looking cane,' it said. I was not one to let a challenge go unanswered.

But the more I looked, the more I became convinced that such a thing did not exist. There were two types of cane - boring, and ugly. There was no inbetween, at least not that I could see.

I was sitting at home, watching television after failing in my quest once again, when the doorbell rang. Must be Maya. She had gone out after work on some kind of "mission," and she had been gone most of the day. I stood and stretched, ignoring the usual dull ache in my joints, and answered the door.

It wasn't who I expected. "Miles?" I furrow my brow. He never showed up unannounced, unless it was important. "What's up?"

The maroon suited High Prosecutor simply smiled and stuck his hands in his pockets. Suddenly, Maya jumped out from behind him. "Surprise!" She yelled, holding out a long white box.

Utterly bewildered, I took the box from her. "Maya, wh-"

"I'll tell you in a minute, just open it!" She was positively ecstatic. Naturally, I took my sweet time opening the box, simply to drive her crazy. She was bouncing up and down next to me as I removed the contents.

It was a wooden cane, very solid, with a protective coating which made it rather smooth to the touch. The bottom was dark wood, but it lightened considerably to an almost reddish color as it neared the top. It's head was shaped like the head of a bird, but it was a strange one - the feathers drew up in the back of it's head like a crest, giving the cane a flat top to grip. The sides of the bird's head had a flowing, circling design about the feathers, and the beak was hooked like an eagle's.

It took me a moment, but I guessed what it was. "Is this a-"

"A phoenix." Edgeworth said, adjusting his spectacles. "I have a few acquaintances in the antique business. Turns out one of them has had this for years. He _says_ it was made around 1851 for the London Exhibition, but I'm not sure I believe him. It's in improbably good condition for something that old."

"Just like you, Nick!" Maya said with a laugh. "I knew it was perfect the moment I saw it!"

I held it and tested my weight on it. Didn't budge. It was surprisingly comfortable to hold as well. I turned around and used it to walk back into the foyer, then turned around again and saw them looking at me expectantly. "So?" Maya asked, hands clasped together. "What do you think?"

I stamp it on the ground between my feet and place both my hands on it in what I think is a lordly pose, grinning widely. "I think it's perfect."


	4. Love is a Fickle Thing

Sitting in my chair and staring at the wall had become something of a habit for me. Not willfully of course. I just found myself doing it more and more lately. I didn't really understand why, either. It's not like I was unhappy. I had a nice home, a lot of friends, a ton of clients, and a pet cat. I had no reason to feel so apathetic, especially considering that I was doing what I loved for a living.

And yet still I sat, staring at the wall next to my bookcase. I don't even know why I chose that particular place to stare. There was nothing special about it really. Well, there was a little scuff on the wall from when they had moved the bookcase in, but it was practically invisible. You had to _really_ be looking for it to notice it. Which I was, and I did, every day for some time now.

...It sort of looks like Abraham Lincoln.

I forcefully tore my gaze away from the wall. This is idiotic. I have work to do. It's sitting on my desk. My clients are counting on me. I pick up my pen and start working on my paperwork.

"Mr. Justice?"

I sigh angrily and look up. One of the receptionists had stuck her head into my office. She shrunk back behind the door, away from my gaze. "Uh, Mr. Wright wanted to speak to you..."

I glare at her a moment longer before setting down my pen. "Tell him I'll be right there."

She nods quickly and shuts the door. As I stand and cross the room to the door, I hope whatever Phoenix wanted to talk about was important.

* * *

Maya is sitting at her desk outside Phoenix's office, humming a tune to herself as she examines a rather thick case file. She looks up when she sees me striding towards her. "Hey Polly," she says with a little wave.

I just nod curtly at her. I know I should say hi, that she's a friend and I'm being impolite, but for some reason I'm feeling pretty irritable. "Phoenix wanted to see me," I state simply.

She looks up at me when she hears the irritation in my voice and raises an eyebrow. "You okay?" She asks.

"Fine," I reply curtly, sticking my hands into my pockets. "Just a little busy."

She's looking directly into my eyes now. I find myself wanting to turn away, to avert my gaze. I find it rather odd that Maya is one of the only people who can get that kind of reaction out of me anymore.

"He's inside," she says, giving me an odd, almost concerned look.

I nod at her again and head past her through the large wooden double doors into Phoenix Wright's office.

"Ah, Apollo!" He says jovially, standing up from his wingback chair with the help of his cane. "Have a seat!"

I cross the large office and plop heavily into one of the almost _too_ comfortable chairs in front of his desk. He seats himself after me and leans his cane against the side of his chair.

"What did you want to speak to me about?" I ask, getting straight to business.

He leafs through some files and charts on his desk, not bothering to look up as he speaks. "A few things. Firstly, I'd like an update on the Nack trial, secondly, I've heard that the evidence reexamination in the Coolidge case isn't going to be finished until Friday, thirdly, the request for dismissal regarding the Fleegman trial hasn't been filed yet, and finally," he looks up from his desk and grins at me through his salt and pepper beard, "are you busy this weekend?"

The last question takes me by surprise exactly as he intended it to, but I recover quickly. "We're fully prepared to defend Mr. Nack, the evidence being reexamined is hardly decisive in favor of Mr. Coolidge, I was working on the paperwork for it before you called me in here, and no, I suppose I'm not, why?"

"Maya's throwing a little get together at our house on Saturday," he explained. "Just friends, no clients."

"Who's going to be there?" I ask, peering at him.

"Oh, you know," he said, waving his hand as he looked up towards the ceiling. "Edgeworth, Trucy, Klavier, Dick and Maggey Gumshoe...I even heard Franziska might be in town."

"And?" I prompt, frowning slightly.

His beard twitches. "Well, I suppose Ema and her sister might be-"

"Pass," I interrupt, firmly crossing my arms.

He sighs and rests his cheek on his fist, staring across the desk at me. I know what he's about to say, and I know why he's going to say it. For a long time now, Phoenix has taken it upon himself to be my caretaker, my surrogate father. He thinks that he knows what's best in every situation, and he can tell me exactly what I'm supposed to do or think or feel. Most of the time it's just sort of annoying, but right now, it's infuriating.

"Apollo," he says, "you want to know what I think?"

"I don't need your opinion," I say gruffly.

"I think you're acting like a child," he continues, ignoring my protest. "Honestly, when are you two just going to get over each other?"

"_She's_ the one who needs to get over herself," I retort quietly, averting my gaze and looking at one of the many pictures of his friends Phoenix hangs on the wall.

"Just because two people have a thing and it doesn't work out," he says with a shake of his head, "doesn't mean they have to hate each other for the rest of their lives."

"With all due respect sir," I say angrily, turning and glaring at him, "butt out. I don't need your advice, and I don't need your help. Now if that's all _Mr. Wright_, I'll excuse myself. I have to finish that request for dismissal."

He doesn't flinch, doesn't even blink as I stand and storm out the office. I close the double doors behind me with more force than is necessary and I can feel Maya staring at my back as I retreat to my office.

* * *

I was staring at the wall again.

I had managed to get some paperwork done, including that request for dismissal, but slowly my focus weakened and I lost concentration and now here I am again, staring at that scuff on the wall that looks sort of looks like a dead president.

Why was I doing this? What was making me do it? There had to be a reason. I began racking my brain, searching for anything that could be held responsible for my lack of focus. I kept hitting on the same thing, but I refused to consider it. It hadn't bothered me for years now, why should it be bothering me now?

...It even has a little stovepipe hat.

I clench my teeth and look away. "Screw this," I say aloud to the empty room as I push myself up from my desk. I stride across my office and pull open the door and point at the first person I see.

"You."

A young kid, early twenties maybe, with a strange hairdo. He turns and gives me a deer-in-the-headlights look. "Me?"

I point inside my office. "There's work in there that needs to get done by the end of the day. If you can't do it, find someone who can."

He nods quickly. "Uh, yes sir."

I pull my red jacket off the coathook next to my door and storm across the building, heading for the elevator. I wasn't going to get any more work done today, that much was clear, but I didn't want to head home yet either. I did the only thing I felt would help alleviate my troubles.

* * *

"Another round, bartender."

He makes a show of pouring the beer into a frosted glass and sliding it across the bar at me. I catch it in one of my hands and raise it to my lips. Third one in a row. Good thing I didn't have a car.

I hear the bell atop the front door jingle as someone enters the bar. I see a flash of blue out of the corner of my eye and I already know who it is. She walks behind me and plops herself on the stool next to me at the end of the bar. I see her pull a pair of underwear out of the little bag she wears at her side. She does a little flourish, then pulls out a bottle out of them and sets it in front of me. The label has been removed and replaced with a white piece of paper taped to the front. It says "To: Polly From: Trucy" on it.

I can't help but laugh a little. "Thanks," I say, finally turning to look at her.

Trucy still wore her magician's outfit most everywhere. The bright blue top hat and long cape with the diamond-shaped clasp, the black dress with the golden buttons, and the tall white boots. Her long, shoulder length hair was a deep brown and seemed to go exactly where she wanted it to. She always had a smile on her face. She looked a lot like our mother.

"How you feelin'?" She asks, pulling another bottle out of the magical pair of underwear she had in her hands.

"Pretty terrible," I say honestly, "thanks for asking."

"Anything I can do?" She asks, stuffing the blue panties with hearts on them back into the bag at her side.

"Don't think so, Trucy." I say with a sigh.

She grins a little wider. "What about-"

"No, there's nothing Mr. Hat can do either," I say firmly, cutting her off before she can bust out her wooden puppet friend. Her face falls a little, but she quickly recovers from the disappointment and begins attempting to unscrew the cap of her bottle.

"Dad says you've been acting a little oddly lately," she grunts as she wrestles with what I realize is a root beer. I reach over and take it from her, twisting off the cap. I hear her mumble something about loosening it for me as I hand it back to her.

"Did _he_ send you over here?" I ask petulantly.

She looks a little shocked at my tone. "I came here on my own Apollo," she says firmly, crossing her arms.

I look over at her and instantly regret what I said. "I'm sorry. I've just been in a mood lately."

"What mood?"

'I don't know," I sigh. "Angry, I guess. Frustrated."

"Why?" She asks innocently.

"I don't know," I lie.

A brief pause. She leans forward into my field of vision. "I think you do."

"Oh come on, Trucy..." I protest weakly.

"Apollo, this can't go on forever. She's the head forensic analyst at the police department, you can't avoid her for the rest of your life."

"What, so I should just call her up and say 'hey, it's your ex, you wanna come over and talk old times?'"

"Well, why not?"

I sigh wearily. Trucy had always lacked a certain subtlety.

"Just call her, Polly," she says gently, taking her root beer and standing up. "It's not like it'll make things any worse."

"See you around!" She calls out brightly, the little bell atop the door jingling as she leaves the bar.

I sit there for a minute, nursing my beer and listening to the slow jazz piping in through the speakers. Slowly, I pull my cell phone out of my pocket. I still have her number in my contact list.

I'm seriously considering either calling her or deleting the number when it rings. I almost drop it. I look at the caller I.D.

Ema Skye.

A fierce battle wages in my mind for almost three rings before I screw up my resolve and answer it.

"Hello?"

I hear a deep breath on the other end of the line. _"It's me."_

"I was just thinking of calling you," I say for lack of anything better.

_"Really?"_ She sounds a little shocked.

"Yeah."

A pause. _"I think...maybe it's time that we talked."_

I felt my stomach churn. I wasn't looking forward to it, but I figured it was something I had to do. "I can meet you at the park in a half hour."

_"Alright..."_ Now she sounds taken aback, like she didn't expect me to agree. _"I'll see you there, I guess."_

I mumble a goodbye and hang up. I pay for my drinks and leave, making sure not to forget the bottle of beer Trucy had given me. It was a bit of a walk to the park. Hopefully the trip would sober me up a bit.

* * *

Gourd Lake is quite pretty in the summer, especially on days like this. The sun was getting lower on the horizon, the trees casting long shadows across the footpath. The lake seemed to sparkle as people floated out on boats or children swam and played in the water. There was a light breeze which felt cool on my face as I sat on the park bench. Occasionally someone would pass by, jogging or walking their dog. There was still quite a bit of activity in the park.

I lean back, throwing my arm over the back of the bench and staring out at the lake.

I hear her walk up, her heels clicking on the paved path and her bag clinking with test tubes and beakers. She must have just come from work. I find it very hard to turn my head and look at her, so I continue to stare at the lake as she sits next to me.

"Hey," she greeted quietly.

"Hey," I replied, my tone a little caustic.

There's a brief pause. "Are you even going to look at me?" She asks indignantly. I grit my teeth and turn towards her.

Thick brown hair, some of which is done up in a bushy sort of ponytail near the back of her head, some of which hangs down past her ears and shoulders, framing her face nicely. Her expression is still as grumpy as ever. She still has her pink-lensed glasses on top of her head. Still has her white labcoat, sleeves rolled up a little. Still wears that green vest and that pink neckerchief thing. Still has the brown capris and the black heels.

She's still as pretty as I remember her being.

"How do we start this?" I ask honestly.

Her expression softens. "I don't know. I'm a little new at this myself."

There's a long silence, broken only by the sound of children laughing in the distance and the wind rustling the leaves on the trees. She takes a small bag of chocolate Snackoos out of bag and starts munching on them. When she sees me staring she offers me some. I accept, despite my upset stomach. I hadn't liked Snackoos when we first met, but they had grown on me over the years.

"I'm not sorry for leaving," she says suddenly, her voice stern and resolute. I clench my jaw and look out at the lake.

"But I am sorry for the way I left," she finishes, staring at the path in front of the bench.

I felt like I needed to say something, but I was finding it hard to speak. "I...regret some of the things I said that day."

"Some?" She asks bitterly.

I sigh wearily. "All."

We stare out at the lake, not looking at one another. I lean forward, elbows on my thighs and fingers laced together.

"Was there any other way it could have turned out?" I ask quietly, not really speaking to her.

"I don't think so," she replies, almost sadly. "Some people just aren't meant to be together."

"Is that what you think?" I turn my head towards her, a curious look on my face.

She glances sidelong at me. "It's what I tell myself."

A family walks past us, a husband and wife and two kids, one with an inner tube around his waist. They're talking and laughing and eating ice cream cones from the vendor at the entrance of the park. They pass us without a glance in our direction.

"I need a drink," Ema says with a sigh.

I reach into my jacket pocket and pull out the beer Trucy gave me. I pull off the paper before Ema can see it and stuff it into my pocket, handing her the bottle. She gives me a weird look, but is grateful all the same. "Thanks."

She hands me her bag of Snackoos as she unscrews the cap and takes a sip. She smacks her lips and turns towards me. "You know this is root beer, right?"

I blink as I realize Trucy never told me what it was. "Uh, yeah. Of course."

She smiles a little, amused, and turns back to the lake. We sit in silence for a few minutes as she drinks her soda and I munch on a few Snackoos. Eventually she breaks the silence.

"What do you want?" She asks simply, setting her drink down next to her feet.

I give her the only answer I can. "I don't know."

"I guess..." She crosses her arms and leans back, looking up at the tree branches hanging over us. "_I_ just want us to be friends again."

"That's a tall order," I grumble, scratching my head.

"For me, too," she retorts, looking off to the side and frowning.

In my head I count the years since the day she left. It's more than I thought. I consider my life since then, what I've said and thought and done, and how I've felt recently. I find that, more than anything, I'm disappointed in myself. Briefly, I wonder if she's the cause of it all, but the thought is gone as soon as it arrives. I know the blame lies with me. I'm not sure how to fix it, but I figure that a good first step is in order.

"I don't know how long it will be until things are normal between us. I'm not even sure they can be again." I turn towards her, running a hand through my hair. "But I'm willing to give it a shot."

She looks at me, more than a little surprised. I see a look in her eyes that's almost like relief, and she reaches over and puts her hand on mine.

"So am I."

* * *

I hum a little tune as I enter my office, setting my briefcase on my desk and opening it. I remove the tools I brought from home and walk over to the wall. I position the nail just above the scuff on the wall next to my bookcase and hammer away until I'm certain it's in solidly. I return to my briefcase and remove the memento I got from out of my closet and hang it on the wall.

It's a picture of Ema and I, taken by Trucy almost fifteen years ago. We're in a booth at a restaurant, I don't remember the name. She's grinning wickedly and throwing a Snackoo at the camera. I'm covering my eyes with my hand and laughing.

I brush a little dust off the frame that I must have missed when I cleaned it earlier, then step back and survey my handiwork. Honest Abe's head is covered entirely by the picture.

I smile and turn around, crossing the room and opening the door to my office, pointing at the first person I see.

"You."

The same young kid from yesterday. He jumps when hears my voice and gives me a nervous look. "Yes sir?"

"Tell Mr. Wright I'll be there on Saturday at one o'clock. He'll understand."

He sighs in relief and nods at me. "Yes sir."

I grin at him and duck back into my office. I have work to do. My clients are counting on me.

* * *

"Well, they're talking again," I say with a smile.

Ema and Apollo are standing over near the dining table. Ema is talking animatedly about work and Apollo is nodding, even smiling on occasion. Lana is with them too, piping up once in a while to correct her sister or expand on a particular anecdote.

"Indeed they are, Fraulein," he says with a grin, brushing his blonde hair out of his face. "Thank you for your assistance."

"Oh, it was nothing," I say, tipping my top hat. "I should have talked to him sooner."

Ema says something and Apollo starts laughing. I turn towards Klavier and put my hand up, palm forward. "Put it up."

He laughs and high fives me, and we do a little victory dance.


	5. Love is about Perseverance

"Where are we going?" She asks, regarding me suspiciously.

"It's a surprise," I reply, trying desperately to hide my smile behind my beard.

She peers at me, but doesn't ask again. I wonder why it took her this long to get suspicious. I had suggested going for a walk in the park on a Sunday, normally a day I prefer to stay home and relax. After we drove there and spent a little time admiring the greenery, I suggested going for a walk through town. She had objected, but I had insisted I was fine, that the arthritis wasn't acting up as much today, and even if it did, I had my painkillers. She had relented, thankfully. Now here we were, many blocks from Gourd Lake, and only now had she decided to ask the obvious question. Apparently I had done a good job of hiding my pain. I was leaning on the cane more and more, but I had managed to keep my stride strong and even.

"Are you okay?"

I turn to her, wondering how I was giving myself away. I notice her staring at my forehead and I realize I'm sweating.

"Fine," I say, wiping my brow and smiling at her. She doesn't buy it.

"Maybe we should head back," she says, looking back towards the park.

Panicking, I look ahead to see how far we have left to go.

"Oh look, we're here!" I exclaim.

She looks up at the sign. 'The Classy Joint.' "A club?"

"Not just any club," I explain, opening the door for her. "The patronage is exceptional."

She gives me a weird look before she walks through the door. I follow after her.

The place lives up to it's name. The decor is very retro, almost art deco. Lots of leather and wood accents and earth tones. The lighting is subdued, but bright enough that we can see easily. At first it appears to be empty, but as we walk through the lobby we hear familiar voices. I throw open the double doors to the main dance hall and all the heads in the room turn to us.

It's a who's who of our friends and family. Edgeworth, Ema and Lana, Dick and Maggey with their kids, Apollo, Trucy, Klavier, Pearls, even Franziska von Karma and Adrian Andrews. They're all sitting at tables surrounding the large dance floor, and on the small stage at the back, a jazz band is warming up.

"About time you got here!" Apollo shouts with a grin, drawing laughter from the rest of the crowd.

Maya gapes at the scene before her. "What's the occasion?" She manages to ask.

I turn to her and smile proudly. "It's our anniversary. Our fifteenth, to be precise."

A hand flies up to cover her mouth. She looks shocked and embarassed that she forgot. "I thought that was in July!"

"Nope, it's in June." I pause, furrowing my brow and staring off into space. "I think."

"No, that's the anniversary of our engagement..." She trails off, stroking her chin with her finger. "Isn't it?"

I sigh. There are too many important dates in our lives. The day we met, the day of our first date, the day of our engagement, the day we got married...how was anyone supposed to keep it all straight?

"Regardless!" I say hurriedly, waving my hand dismissively. "Any excuse for a party, right?"

I offer her my arm and she takes it, laughing as I escort her into the hall. Trucy runs up and wraps Maya in a bearhug.

"Happy anniversary!" She squeaks.

"Oh, I've missed you Trucy..." Maya pushes her away and pouts at her. "You don't visit often enough!"

Trucy rolls her eyes and whines, "Mooooom."

Maya's smile returns and she instantly forgives her. She _loves_ being called that.

"I'll go and get us some drinks," I say, heading for the bar and passing Pearls as she hurries to greet Maya. I order a vodka martini and a glass of brandy from the bartender and lean heavily against the bar. The walk took more out of me than I realized. I pull out my bottle of painkillers and pop it open, taking one and raising it towards my mouth.

"You're going to mix pills and alcohol?"

I freeze, pill inches from my open mouth. My mind races, considering the options - take a couple and drink nothing but water for the rest of the night, or allow myself the rare pleasure of a decent glass of brandy and hope that it dulls the pain.

I close my mouth and sigh wearily, placing the pill back in the bottle. "Thanks, Miles."

He walks up and leans next to me on the bar, adjusting his spectacles. "That was a dangerous lapse in judgment, Wright. I might not be around next time."

"Temporary insanity," I say, thoroughly embarrassed at what I'd almost done. "Won't happen again."

"I should hope not," he scolds. "I'd be deprived of a chess partner."

"You'd always have Apollo," I reassure him. He laughs loudly and I hope Apollo didn't hear that.

"So how have things been here? I'm sorry we're late, but you know." I indicate my cane.

"We've managed to enjoy ourselves without you, as strange as it may seem," Edgeworth replies with a smirk. "Though there has been a little trouble. Trucy's been teasing and playing pranks on the Gumshoe twins. And I've had to stop Franziska from murdering Klavier twice now. He's been flirting with her all day."

"Only twice?" I chuckle, glancing over at Franziska sitting at a table with Adrian on the other side of the room. "She _has_ mellowed."

"Here you are sir," the bartender says, setting the drinks on the counter.

"Ah, thank you barkeep." I take a brief swig of the brandy. Not bad at all. "If you'll excuse me, Edgeworth?"

"Of course," he says politely, pushing away from the bar. "I need to go check on the Gumshoe kids anyway. I think they're planning to sabotage Mr. Hat."

I laugh as I make my way back to Maya's side. She has quite the crowd around her; Ema, Lana, Trucy, Pearls, and Maggey. They're chattering away as I hand her the martini.

"Some party, huh?" Ema says with a tipsy grin.

"Yeah, this is great!" Maggey chimes in brightly.

"How did you arrange all this, Nick?" Maya inquires, turning towards me.

"Oh, it wasn't me. It was-"

I hear the Chords of Steel clear their throat behind me. I step aside and gesture backwards. "There's your hero, ladies."

"Oh, it was nothing," Apollo says, looking quite proud of himself. "The owner just owed me a favor, that's all."

"To Apollo!" I shout, raising my glass. "The most modest party planner in all the land!"

I hear my toast echoed across the room and grin as Apollo blushes furiously.

Finally, it appears the band has finished warming up. They begin to play an upbeat song, beginning with a brief piano solo, then adding drums, trumpets, and an electric guitar. It was an odd assortment of instruments, but it produced a very catchy tune.

Gumshoe comes running up to the crowd of women around Maya, grinning that big dopey grin of his.

"Might I trouble milady for a dance?" He asks, bowing slightly and extending his arm.

Maggey instantly runs up and takes it. "Sure can, pal!" She replies with a smile. He has clearly rubbed off on her over the years.

As they head off to the dance floor I glance over at Maya. She's looking at the couple beginning to dance with a sort of longing. She catches me staring and averts her gaze, taking a sip of her martini.

I didn't need to be a lawyer to know what she wanted. I was stiff and sore, but I would be _damned_ if I let that stop me from dancing with my wife on our anniversary.

I down the last of my brandy in one swig and set the glass down on a nearby table before wiping the sweat from my brow. "Maya?"

She turns and looks at me questioningly. I raise my hand, palm up. "May I have the pleasure of a dance?"

Her eyebrows raise slightly and she looks at my hand. "Are you sure you're okay?"

I pick up my cane and toss it without warning at Apollo, who manages to catch it. Always quick on the draw, that guy.

"I've never been more sure of anything in my life," I say, smiling as widely as I can.

She looks at me searchingly. She must find what she was looking for, because she takes my hand and I lead her off to the dance floor. I can hear Pearls sighing behind me. She relished every opportunity to remind everyone that she had known Maya and I were soulmates from the day she met me. It used to bother me. These days it just made me smile.

"Don't break a hip, Wright!" I hear Edgeworth call out behind me. Snarky son of a bitch. I glance back at him.

"Don't wear yourself out sitting on your ass, Edgeworth!"

I see the smirk on his face disappear in an instant and I allow myself a grin as I turn towards Maya, taking her hand in mine and wrapping an arm around her waist.

As we begin to dance it becomes clear to me that arthritis hurts a lot more than I thought it could. The dull ache has become a burning sensation, even a stabbing pain in my elbows and knees. I keep my focus on Maya, on her smile, on the way her eyes look when the light catches them just so. I can still feel the pain, but it's becoming more distant, more manageable. All I have to do is keep looking at her, reminding myself how much she means to me, and I can do anything, even dance to jazz.

I see other people dancing on the edges of my vision. Gumshoe, for one, is dancing like crazy with Maggey. It encourages me. Gumshoe is a bear of a man almost seven years my senior, and yet he always seems to have a boundless supply of energy. If he can do this, then by God so can I.

I catch Apollo dancing stiffly with Ema out of the corner of my eye, which surprises me. It was good to see those two getting along again, but dancing? It takes me a second before I remember that Ema has a weakness for cold beer, and it all clicks in my head. Poor Apollo. At least Lana was here and he wouldn't have to drive her home.

Maya looks off the side and laughs. I follow her gaze and see Klavier smiling and dancing with a very irritated Franziska, while Adrian laughs hysterically at their table - she must have pushed her onto the dance floor. Franziska was showing remarkable restraint. If anyone had tried the moves Klavier was using back in the old days, they would have been whipped into unconsciousness.

I see a bit of blue out of the corner of my eye and turn to see Trucy dancing with Jimmy Gumshoe. I was rather puzzled until I noticed Trucy was leading and Jimmy's sister was sitting off to the side and laughing at him. Truce always did have a sick sense of humor.

A sudden spasm of pain runs through my knee and I turn my attention back to Maya to take my mind off it. I guessed from the rhythm of the song that it was almost half over. Just had to last a few more minutes.

Something pink abruptly crosses behind Maya and I look past her. Edgeworth is dancing with Pearls, who seems to be enjoying herself quite a bit. He twirls her and she giggles excitedly. He notices me staring and smirks smugly at me.

Oh no he _didn't_. I am _not_ being upstaged by him today. It is on like _Donkey Kong._

I furrow my brow and step up my dancing, twirling and swinging and even lifting Maya, drawing attention from the others. She's thoroughly enjoying herself, smiling and laughing, easing my pain. I'm getting tired, but my will is unto iron. I would not let Edgeworth or this goddamn arthritis get the best of me today.

The song is coming to a close, I can tell. I throw in one last twirl for kicks and end with a dip, holding her above the floor. I actually get some applause from the others, and Maya's looking up at me with a look of happy surprise. I smile and move to stand straight and find that I can't.

Oh God, I've thrown out my back.

This can't happen. I don't want to embarrass myself, and moreso I don't want to trouble Maya. I will not be beaten today, I tell myself. Fate might consign me to old-man-hood early, but it will not take this last dance from her. So I grit my teeth, clench my jaw, and straighten out.

There is a small but audible pop as I stand, pulling Maya up with me. I don't think anyone else noticed it, but I know she did. She looks at me with concern, wrapping her arms around my waist and putting her arms on my lower back. I just put my hands on her shoulders and smile at her. She looks into my eyes once more and she must see the relief on my face from having made it through the song, see the pride I feel at giving her one last dance.

She grabs my cheeks and pulls me into a deep, passionate kiss. It doesn't end after three seconds, or after five. I stop counting and just let myself by enveloped by the warm, happy bliss I get whenever she kisses me. Our lips break reluctantly and though I know we're receiving stares, I don't care.

I say three little words. Three little words which sum up my feelings about her. Three little words that make all our friends laugh. Three little words that make her grin and kiss me again, giggling into my lips.

"_Totally_ worth it."


End file.
